Period Fetish
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lil_slave_rose
-R.I.P. Daddy i miss You-
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the captians wench said:See theses new bcs that let you only have a period once ever 4 months really worry me. From what i've read and what my gyno has told me, the most likely cause of these cysts is not getting everything flushed out regularly, so if you're having only 4 periods a year wouldn't it cause the same problems.Well I'm not big on them in the first place, but I am worried because I seem to be a lot more emotional than I have been before. I've never been moody before (well except when I was on the progesterone) but lately those 2 or 3 days before I start I cry at the drop of a hat! But where I used to cramp really bad on the first day I don't cramp at all now. I don't know which would is worse! I know I'm kinda lucky in that I only ever cramped one day (even tho some times it was so severe that I would stay in bed with a heating pad all day), but I think the moodyness is worse.
Oh, and I don't crave period sex but I don't see why my period should mean that I can't play. Unfortunitly I have pretty bad luck when it comes to finding a man who agrees....fortunitly I have at least one play partner who it doesn't bother.
anything that stops your period from coming, is bad. it's a natural thing and though it is a pain most of the time, your body needs it. so, yea, the BC's that stop it or lessen the amount of periods you get are bad, IMO. my doctor wouldn't put me on the Depo shot because of that reason *shrugs* i don't mind my monthly so much, of course mine only lasts about 3-4 days ......
BeachGurl2
Sarcastic Smart Sexyass
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Oh, goodie. And just in time for the holidays.RJMasters said:
Kajira Callista
Empty
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When you have pcod anything that stops your period is a good thing.lil_slave_rose said:
I have lived with this since i was diagnosed at 16. your ovaries get a bunch of tiny cysts on them and your body thinks you are ovulating all of the time. It releases more then your female hormones when this happens and creates a whole bunch of other physical problems... not to mention the bleeding sometimes straight through for months at a time thing. Stopping periods actually improves the disorder and helps you get your overall health back.
FurryFury
Addict of Sensation
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neonflux said:
After so long I can't remember the name of it. I believe it's a copper coil. I do think it had hormones but I could be wrong.
The whole thing about going in to have it be removed when I was originally told to then being told no it's fine, we will leave it in has blown my mind each time it's come up. I think it's gotten to the point that I decided not to think on it anymore and have blocked out the details.
Is is okay to stop your periods? That is a question that I don't believe enough research and time has answered yet. I'm glad to see two or more points of view on it though.
RJMasters said:
That would be delightful!
*smiles*
Fury
lil_slave_rose
-R.I.P. Daddy i miss You-
- Joined
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Kajira Callista said:
*shrugs* i wouldn't know, as i've never had this issue. what i was saying though is that your body, needs that 'cleansing' that your menstral cycle gives you. my neice had cysts, and they did put her on birth control pills, but it was to 'regulate' things, not make her period stop all together.
RJMasters
workaholic
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- Aug 24, 2004
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The story of sir
Hello there, my name is Tristesse and I wish to tell you the most amazing story of which I am but a small part. The story is about a great man, possibly the greatest man that ever lived. I have the honor to speak of him and share with you what many will never understand.
The story begins on a rainy night in the streets of Amsterdam, in an alley way located between a smoke-filled drunk infested bar on the left and a stripper-sex club called “Angles with Horns”. How or why I happen to be standing in that alleyway is unimportant except that it is the place where He found me.
Standing there in the rain shivering in a mini skirt and a black and white halter-top, the ache in my legs and back from standing in high-heels was the least of my worries on a night like tonight. I had little hope that anyone would come on a night like tonight and purchase me for an evening. That meant I would not be able to earn my way to sleep inside tonight. The blue hair spray was running down the side of my face and neck mixed with the black mascara when the back door from the bar across the alleyway opened and I was for a moment bathed in light. It was the first time I saw Him as Pete the bouncer of the bar tossed Him out the backdoor where he stumble and fell face down in a puddle at my feet. As he landed the muddy water splashed upwards and covered my legs with cold muddy water.
“Thanks a lot Pete you wanker!” I yelled.
“Piss off!” He replied and slammed the door leaving me with Him in the cold darkness of the alley.
He reached out a trembling hand and grabbed my ankle. I was about to kick him to make Him let go when he moaned “Please help me.”
“Help you? Help you what?” I asked with a bit of amused sarcasm.
“Help me home.” He replied
“You got a home? If I help ya can I stay for the night?” I asked thinking maybe I’d have a chance to get out of the rain and a warm place to stay.
“Yes” came his reply.
So I helped him get home to his flat. It turned out to be not much more than a converted storage unit, but still it was out of the rain and it had a heater, a bed and a small makeshift of a kitchen. I helped him take of his wet clothes and get into bed and then went and sat by the heater and waited till I was sure he was asleep. I figured I would get some sleep and then be up in the morning out of there before he woke up so I took off my wet clothes and hung them by the heater to dry and used a blanket and a pillow and curled up there on the floor near the heater and feel asleep.
When morning came I laid there feeling the warmth of the heater on my skin and I didn’t want to open my eyes. It felt like I could lay there forever. I breathed deeply and could smell food and coffee and thought I was dreaming but then remembered where I was and opened my eyes. I could see him sitting across the room. He sat half in sunlight and half in shadow as he was leaned back on a bench against the wall with His knee propped up and something in his lap leaned up against his knee. His long brown hair hung down covering part of his face, he was looking at me and doing something with his hands. We stayed that way for a bit of time, me looking at him and him just sitting there looking at me.
“What are…” I began
“shhhhhh. Don’t move.” He said interrupting me.
His voice was calm and clear and his command had a quality about it. I didn’t understand it but conveyed the feeling I wasn’t in any danger and it put me at ease. I laid there and watched him as he looked at me. He gaze was so intense. I never had anyone look at me the way he was with such a mixed of frantic need held in check by steady unrelenting gaze. There was a passion about it, not like the kind she was use to seeing of men who stared at her while she danced. It was as if he was looking through her, it made her feel both insignificant and important at the same time.
“There, finished.” He said as he tossed the object I his hand down on the bench next to him.
My eyes continued to watch him as he stood up and walked across the room and poured a cup of coffee and drank it. It was like I was no longer there as he stood there as if in thought while he sipped his coffee. He ran his fingers through his hair and then he looked at me again. Again I existed as his eyes looked at me in silence.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Tristesse” I replied and then realized that I was laying there half naked as the blanket was only covering the lower part of my body. I sat up and pulled it around me.
“Are you hungry, Tristesse?” He asked.
It was the first time I remember him speaking my name. It was as if it was the first time I ever heard it spoken in a way that gave it any meaning or substance. I nodded.
“Good I will fix you up a plate while you get dressed.”
He began fixing me a plate of food and I stood up and quickly slipped into my skirt and slid my top into place and then I wandered across the room to the bench where he was sitting and looked down to see a drawing table laying there. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the charcoal drawing of me laying there. I had never seen anything like it the way he captured the light coming into the room and how it crossed my body. The detail was so perfect in everyway, my lips, my ragged hair, and my body. Seeing myself captured on the canvas like that changed me. Its hard to explain but no one ever took notice of me, not like the way he did let alone capture it the way he did. It made me feel special, and made me feel as if I mattered that I was real, that I existed.
“Come Tristesse and eat.”
I don’t like it when people tell me what to do or boss me around but again his voice came in the form of a short command. It wasn’t like he was bossing me and telling what I had to do, it was more like he had given thought to it and decided for me, then spoke his decision. I felt no inner struggle to obey him and I was so hungry he certainly wasn’t going to get any argument out of me.
I sat down and began to eat like I hadn’t had any food in days because that was the truth, I hadn’t. He sat there and watched me quietly, and when I became aware he was watching me I realized how I must look stuffing food into my mouth. I stopped eating for a moment and wiped my mouth with a napkin and then after a brief pause began to eat again only this time I did so slowly and with a little more dignity.
He chuckled as if he almost seemed to be amused and then he spoke.
“Tristesse, I want to thank you for helping me to get home last night. Of late I have sought drink to ease the bouts of pain that have begun due to my illness. You see Tristesse, I am dying. I have but less than a year to live and it for that reason I have come to Amsterdam to find something in which to give my life meaning before I die.
We could think about why it is that fate saw fit to bring us together and how you found me laying face down drunk in the mud of an alley or how I found you as I was tossed at your feet standing in that same alley, but to a dying man none of that really matters nor is important. What is important is that you showed me an act of kindness which somehow touched my soul and when I awoke as saw you this morning laying there, so beautiful and lovely, I knew I had found what it is I came here to find in you. With that I will come directly to the point, I want to ask you something.”
At this point my mind was whirling as he spoke. He spoke with such purpose and no words were unimportant or wasted. I wanted to focus on that he was dying and how this made me feel sorrowful, yet his manner would not allow it as if he swept it from my mind as he continued to speak. He paused to ensure he had my full attention and I put down my fork and gave it to him and then he continued.
“I would take kindly if you would consider staying here with me and be my inspiration for my work. To look after me and to share in the final days I have left in this life. If you do this, I have a small bit of money, not much mind you, but enough to give you your own start and it will be yours when I am gone. I am tired and need to lay down and rest now. I want you to think about it and decide while you finish eating. If you choose to stay you do not have to sleep on the floor, you can come over and lay with me. If you choose not to, you can let yourself out when your done. When I awake I will know what you have decided.”
When he was finished speaking he got up and went and laid down in the bed leaving me there stunned. I looked down at the half eaten plate of food and realized that he had asked me to make a decision that would change my life and had only given me the span of time of a meal in which to make it. I picked up my fork again and ate slowly as I thought about all he said.
“Me? Inspiration? Dying? A chance for a new start. Amazingly by the time I had finished eating I had come to a decision and got up and quietly walked to the bed and slide into bed besides him. I felt his arm wrap over me as he pulled me in close to him.
“I am glad you decided to stay Tristesse.”
“May I know your name?”
“The is not important.” He said.
“But….what…what shall I call you then? I asked.
“You can call me sir, no rest and we will talk more of this later”
“Yes sir.” I replied and lay quietly next to him. I was warm, I was fed and I felt safe, but most of all I felt like I existed as somehow he found in me some worth which inspired him. It was the first time I ever felt alive and cared for and the only thing that troubled my thoughts was the thought that he was dying.
The next 8 months were counted by me to be the best of times in my lifetime. Sir and I spent our time together and he drew and painted. I was allowed to see the drawings but never the paintings, but that did not matter to me. What mattered was the way he looked at me and held me in his arms in his bed. He taught me a different side of life through his eyes full of love and passion. The nights when his body was racked with pain and I held him and fed him medicine seemed like torture to my soul. I hurt for him as he suffered but I was careful to keep this from him so as not to add to his pain. I had never knew love till I had met him and in that short time we were together my love for him grew till it knew no bounds or limits. I miss the way his eyes held me when I sat for hours before him as he captured my soul on his canvases.
The one odd or unusual thing was what appeared to be his elated joy when I neared my time of the month. He seem to have an obsession when it came to my period. He insisted that I avail my body to him during this time and I agreed because I wanted to please him in anyway I could. It worried me during this time because he wouldn’t sleep at all for days. He would come and make love to me and then leave me and paint then he would return and make love to me some more and then paint some more. Near the end seemed almost frantic always mumbling, “not enough time, not enough time..” I never understood till what he meant until after he was gone.
Sir passed away on a warm summer day. I was with holding his hand till the end. He held me one last time and then gave me a piece of paper and told me to call the number and tell Frank that it was time. I told him that I would and then he looked at me and held me with his eyes and reached out and touched my face and said…
“Not enough time….to capture all the beauty that is within you Tristesse.”
And with that he died.
That was one of the saddest times in my life, though sir would say if he was here that it would be fitting that he be the reason to be both the saddest and happiest moments of my life. He use to say that everyone should get to have their fair share of both sorrow and happiness in this life otherwise there would be no point in living it.
I called Frank as sir asked me to do. Frank came and took me to a hotel and made sure I was looked after. I never meet Frank before but he knew sir. Frank was an art dealer and a friend of sir. After sir died Frank gave me a letter written by sir that told me that I was to let Frank take care of things and me until I could get on my feet. In my emotional state I was glad for Frank’s help.
A week after we buried sir, Frank asked me to come with him as he had a surprise for me and it is what sir wanted, so I went with him. He took me to his art gallery where there were so many people. He had me close my eyes as he lead me into the gallery to the center of the room. There he said to open my eyes.
I looked around and I was surrounded by sir’s paintings, all of them were of me. I watched as all the people looked and pointed at them admiring them. They were all painted in hues of red. No other color only "blood red". When the people recognized me standing there fro the paintings they all began to applaud with respect for sir and his work and I was overcome with emotion of it all. Frank told me that all of the paintings had sold and not one for less that 80,000 each.
Sir had kept his word and had provided for me, more than just a little. But the things that I remember more than anything about that night was not the money or the applause, it was the sir had signed everyone of the paintings with his name.
And that is my story. It is to me is the story of the greatest man who ever lived. Everyone else knew him as Gabriel, but I knew him as “sir”. Remember him.
Hello there, my name is Tristesse and I wish to tell you the most amazing story of which I am but a small part. The story is about a great man, possibly the greatest man that ever lived. I have the honor to speak of him and share with you what many will never understand.
The story begins on a rainy night in the streets of Amsterdam, in an alley way located between a smoke-filled drunk infested bar on the left and a stripper-sex club called “Angles with Horns”. How or why I happen to be standing in that alleyway is unimportant except that it is the place where He found me.
Standing there in the rain shivering in a mini skirt and a black and white halter-top, the ache in my legs and back from standing in high-heels was the least of my worries on a night like tonight. I had little hope that anyone would come on a night like tonight and purchase me for an evening. That meant I would not be able to earn my way to sleep inside tonight. The blue hair spray was running down the side of my face and neck mixed with the black mascara when the back door from the bar across the alleyway opened and I was for a moment bathed in light. It was the first time I saw Him as Pete the bouncer of the bar tossed Him out the backdoor where he stumble and fell face down in a puddle at my feet. As he landed the muddy water splashed upwards and covered my legs with cold muddy water.
“Thanks a lot Pete you wanker!” I yelled.
“Piss off!” He replied and slammed the door leaving me with Him in the cold darkness of the alley.
He reached out a trembling hand and grabbed my ankle. I was about to kick him to make Him let go when he moaned “Please help me.”
“Help you? Help you what?” I asked with a bit of amused sarcasm.
“Help me home.” He replied
“You got a home? If I help ya can I stay for the night?” I asked thinking maybe I’d have a chance to get out of the rain and a warm place to stay.
“Yes” came his reply.
So I helped him get home to his flat. It turned out to be not much more than a converted storage unit, but still it was out of the rain and it had a heater, a bed and a small makeshift of a kitchen. I helped him take of his wet clothes and get into bed and then went and sat by the heater and waited till I was sure he was asleep. I figured I would get some sleep and then be up in the morning out of there before he woke up so I took off my wet clothes and hung them by the heater to dry and used a blanket and a pillow and curled up there on the floor near the heater and feel asleep.
When morning came I laid there feeling the warmth of the heater on my skin and I didn’t want to open my eyes. It felt like I could lay there forever. I breathed deeply and could smell food and coffee and thought I was dreaming but then remembered where I was and opened my eyes. I could see him sitting across the room. He sat half in sunlight and half in shadow as he was leaned back on a bench against the wall with His knee propped up and something in his lap leaned up against his knee. His long brown hair hung down covering part of his face, he was looking at me and doing something with his hands. We stayed that way for a bit of time, me looking at him and him just sitting there looking at me.
“What are…” I began
“shhhhhh. Don’t move.” He said interrupting me.
His voice was calm and clear and his command had a quality about it. I didn’t understand it but conveyed the feeling I wasn’t in any danger and it put me at ease. I laid there and watched him as he looked at me. He gaze was so intense. I never had anyone look at me the way he was with such a mixed of frantic need held in check by steady unrelenting gaze. There was a passion about it, not like the kind she was use to seeing of men who stared at her while she danced. It was as if he was looking through her, it made her feel both insignificant and important at the same time.
“There, finished.” He said as he tossed the object I his hand down on the bench next to him.
My eyes continued to watch him as he stood up and walked across the room and poured a cup of coffee and drank it. It was like I was no longer there as he stood there as if in thought while he sipped his coffee. He ran his fingers through his hair and then he looked at me again. Again I existed as his eyes looked at me in silence.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Tristesse” I replied and then realized that I was laying there half naked as the blanket was only covering the lower part of my body. I sat up and pulled it around me.
“Are you hungry, Tristesse?” He asked.
It was the first time I remember him speaking my name. It was as if it was the first time I ever heard it spoken in a way that gave it any meaning or substance. I nodded.
“Good I will fix you up a plate while you get dressed.”
He began fixing me a plate of food and I stood up and quickly slipped into my skirt and slid my top into place and then I wandered across the room to the bench where he was sitting and looked down to see a drawing table laying there. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the charcoal drawing of me laying there. I had never seen anything like it the way he captured the light coming into the room and how it crossed my body. The detail was so perfect in everyway, my lips, my ragged hair, and my body. Seeing myself captured on the canvas like that changed me. Its hard to explain but no one ever took notice of me, not like the way he did let alone capture it the way he did. It made me feel special, and made me feel as if I mattered that I was real, that I existed.
“Come Tristesse and eat.”
I don’t like it when people tell me what to do or boss me around but again his voice came in the form of a short command. It wasn’t like he was bossing me and telling what I had to do, it was more like he had given thought to it and decided for me, then spoke his decision. I felt no inner struggle to obey him and I was so hungry he certainly wasn’t going to get any argument out of me.
I sat down and began to eat like I hadn’t had any food in days because that was the truth, I hadn’t. He sat there and watched me quietly, and when I became aware he was watching me I realized how I must look stuffing food into my mouth. I stopped eating for a moment and wiped my mouth with a napkin and then after a brief pause began to eat again only this time I did so slowly and with a little more dignity.
He chuckled as if he almost seemed to be amused and then he spoke.
“Tristesse, I want to thank you for helping me to get home last night. Of late I have sought drink to ease the bouts of pain that have begun due to my illness. You see Tristesse, I am dying. I have but less than a year to live and it for that reason I have come to Amsterdam to find something in which to give my life meaning before I die.
We could think about why it is that fate saw fit to bring us together and how you found me laying face down drunk in the mud of an alley or how I found you as I was tossed at your feet standing in that same alley, but to a dying man none of that really matters nor is important. What is important is that you showed me an act of kindness which somehow touched my soul and when I awoke as saw you this morning laying there, so beautiful and lovely, I knew I had found what it is I came here to find in you. With that I will come directly to the point, I want to ask you something.”
At this point my mind was whirling as he spoke. He spoke with such purpose and no words were unimportant or wasted. I wanted to focus on that he was dying and how this made me feel sorrowful, yet his manner would not allow it as if he swept it from my mind as he continued to speak. He paused to ensure he had my full attention and I put down my fork and gave it to him and then he continued.
“I would take kindly if you would consider staying here with me and be my inspiration for my work. To look after me and to share in the final days I have left in this life. If you do this, I have a small bit of money, not much mind you, but enough to give you your own start and it will be yours when I am gone. I am tired and need to lay down and rest now. I want you to think about it and decide while you finish eating. If you choose to stay you do not have to sleep on the floor, you can come over and lay with me. If you choose not to, you can let yourself out when your done. When I awake I will know what you have decided.”
When he was finished speaking he got up and went and laid down in the bed leaving me there stunned. I looked down at the half eaten plate of food and realized that he had asked me to make a decision that would change my life and had only given me the span of time of a meal in which to make it. I picked up my fork again and ate slowly as I thought about all he said.
“Me? Inspiration? Dying? A chance for a new start. Amazingly by the time I had finished eating I had come to a decision and got up and quietly walked to the bed and slide into bed besides him. I felt his arm wrap over me as he pulled me in close to him.
“I am glad you decided to stay Tristesse.”
“May I know your name?”
“The is not important.” He said.
“But….what…what shall I call you then? I asked.
“You can call me sir, no rest and we will talk more of this later”
“Yes sir.” I replied and lay quietly next to him. I was warm, I was fed and I felt safe, but most of all I felt like I existed as somehow he found in me some worth which inspired him. It was the first time I ever felt alive and cared for and the only thing that troubled my thoughts was the thought that he was dying.
The next 8 months were counted by me to be the best of times in my lifetime. Sir and I spent our time together and he drew and painted. I was allowed to see the drawings but never the paintings, but that did not matter to me. What mattered was the way he looked at me and held me in his arms in his bed. He taught me a different side of life through his eyes full of love and passion. The nights when his body was racked with pain and I held him and fed him medicine seemed like torture to my soul. I hurt for him as he suffered but I was careful to keep this from him so as not to add to his pain. I had never knew love till I had met him and in that short time we were together my love for him grew till it knew no bounds or limits. I miss the way his eyes held me when I sat for hours before him as he captured my soul on his canvases.
The one odd or unusual thing was what appeared to be his elated joy when I neared my time of the month. He seem to have an obsession when it came to my period. He insisted that I avail my body to him during this time and I agreed because I wanted to please him in anyway I could. It worried me during this time because he wouldn’t sleep at all for days. He would come and make love to me and then leave me and paint then he would return and make love to me some more and then paint some more. Near the end seemed almost frantic always mumbling, “not enough time, not enough time..” I never understood till what he meant until after he was gone.
Sir passed away on a warm summer day. I was with holding his hand till the end. He held me one last time and then gave me a piece of paper and told me to call the number and tell Frank that it was time. I told him that I would and then he looked at me and held me with his eyes and reached out and touched my face and said…
“Not enough time….to capture all the beauty that is within you Tristesse.”
And with that he died.
That was one of the saddest times in my life, though sir would say if he was here that it would be fitting that he be the reason to be both the saddest and happiest moments of my life. He use to say that everyone should get to have their fair share of both sorrow and happiness in this life otherwise there would be no point in living it.
I called Frank as sir asked me to do. Frank came and took me to a hotel and made sure I was looked after. I never meet Frank before but he knew sir. Frank was an art dealer and a friend of sir. After sir died Frank gave me a letter written by sir that told me that I was to let Frank take care of things and me until I could get on my feet. In my emotional state I was glad for Frank’s help.
A week after we buried sir, Frank asked me to come with him as he had a surprise for me and it is what sir wanted, so I went with him. He took me to his art gallery where there were so many people. He had me close my eyes as he lead me into the gallery to the center of the room. There he said to open my eyes.
I looked around and I was surrounded by sir’s paintings, all of them were of me. I watched as all the people looked and pointed at them admiring them. They were all painted in hues of red. No other color only "blood red". When the people recognized me standing there fro the paintings they all began to applaud with respect for sir and his work and I was overcome with emotion of it all. Frank told me that all of the paintings had sold and not one for less that 80,000 each.
Sir had kept his word and had provided for me, more than just a little. But the things that I remember more than anything about that night was not the money or the applause, it was the sir had signed everyone of the paintings with his name.
And that is my story. It is to me is the story of the greatest man who ever lived. Everyone else knew him as Gabriel, but I knew him as “sir”. Remember him.
Last edited:
RJMasters
workaholic
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- Aug 24, 2004
- Posts
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I wonder what it would be like to see such exsquisite peices of art painted by your own menstral blood? Then to see it displayed and sold for thousands of dollars before your very eyes. There is just something about that makes my pants twitch. 
BeachGurl2
Sarcastic Smart Sexyass
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- Oct 2, 2005
- Posts
- 4,919
Wow. Interesting story, RJ. I agree with Furry. Beautiful and heartbreaking.
neonflux
Out and about...
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2005
- Posts
- 4,233
Kajira Callista said:
KC, your post made me think of this article, first published by the University of Florida:
"Contemporary women in Western societies who live to age 50 will experience an estimated 450 lifetime ovulations or episodes of menses, whereas women in primitive foraging (i.e., hunter-gatherer) societies who lived to experience menopause would have had only one third as many cycles (160) [6]. There is evidence to suggest that this pattern of frequent, repetitive menstrual cycles may actually increase health risks. For example, characteristics found to be protective against breast and gynecologic cancers, including late menarche, early first birth, high parity, and early menopause, which were present in hunter-gatherer women, are no longer present in women of today [6]."
(Source: Andrew M. Kaunitz, University of Florida Health Science Center, Jacksonville, FL 32257, USA, October 13, 2000, http://www.womenshealthtrack.vcu.edu/pdf/Kaunitz.pdf)
Fury, you're right, the jury is still out on all of this; to me, the logic makes sense...
lsr, this was an article on the type of hormonal contraception I actully asked my ob/gyn for - I'm happy on it, but you're right, I still bleed - it's not depo, which has other problems (I wouldn't recommend it for anyone unless they had no other alternative, e.g., couldn't tell their partner they were on birth control, etc.)
Neon
Last edited:
RJMasters
workaholic
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- Aug 24, 2004
- Posts
- 4,298
neonflux said:RJ, only ONE comment -
Thank you. It was beautiful.
Thank you Neon
I am glad you liked it. It is strange and oddly beautiful to me that often what is associated at times with such distain a times, I feel myself attracted to it and see it differently.
There is a kinship from myself to the artist in the story. Him taking her menstral blood and using it to convey his vision of beauty plays my psyche like a harp.
"How beautiful is the song the birds make when I do hear their woes of monthly toil. Adorned with such colorful shame let their cheeks be flush as their boosoms are plucked in thier tenderness like ripen fruit. Laciviousness of a dirty womb makes me heady like one who has taken too much drink.
"RJMasters"
Kajira Callista
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If you never had the issue then why would you suggest to someone who does have the issue that it is a bad thing when in fact for her it would be a good and healthy thing?lil_slave_rose said:
BTW wench...pcod can be the cause of your hypoglycemia you know.
shy slave
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FurryFury said:I know! When I first got it, my Doctor told me something like 7 years. When I went in for my gyno work up, they said, it's not doing any harm so we'll just leave it. In fact, that's been the story each time they see me.
Strange huh?
Fury
Same here.
I had mine put in in 1993 and should have been 5 years.
The few times I have mentioned it I have been told it is not doing any harm so we will leave it.
I am looking at changing it, but only because I am sick and tired of having the amazing ability to pick dates to fly to see Andante that (more often than not) coincide with my period.
I want the Mirana coil which is known to reduce or stop periods completely.
If I tried to plan it to be that often, it would never happen lol
shy slave
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jadefirefly said:
Not all of them have chemicals.
The one I have simply keeps the cervix opens so nothing can become implanted.
When I had it fitted, coils with chemicals was a very new concept and my GP did not want to try it at that time.
BreeCarter
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mw_a1 said:
i love period sex. i'm a ton more sensitive. as far as being turned on by dirty tampons, that's pretty gross. a little nauseating even.
lil_slave_rose
-R.I.P. Daddy i miss You-
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Kajira Callista said:
i did not KNOW she had the issue first of all, and second of all i was not recommending or 'suggesting' anything to anyone..and if you read her post she was saying the same thing.....i was simply making a comment on the thread about the topic..that's it, no more, no less......there are studies, my gyno has told me, and my neice DOES have issues and as i said, they put her on BC pills to regulate NOT stop her periods, because stopping your period is NOT healthy, it cleanses blah blah blah..anyway....i was not suggesting anything to wench or telling her what she should do, i was adding my 'advice' and 'comments' on the topic at hand and surely did not mean to start some silly argument over my comments about what my gyno has told me about stopping periods.....
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sister76
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If a man wants period sex that is a huge turnon. I'd say it sets himself apart from many others. If a guy was interested in that it would let me know that he was not such an anal wierdo like many other people nowadays. Of course, probably fewer women would like such thing because it's not proper!
I like people who have the balls to go outside the norm.
I like people who have the balls to go outside the norm.
lil_slave_rose
-R.I.P. Daddy i miss You-
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sister76 said:
for me, it wasn't about it not being 'proper' it was more just that it felt 'gross' and it's definantly not a time of the month that i'm feeling overly sexy. not to mention it's messy. but it doesn't bother Master, it's not a 'fetish' for Him, but it's not gonna stop Him from taking what's His either, as i found out a few months ago *grins*
Kajira Callista
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As was I... and I do believe it is called discussion, not a silly argument.lil_slave_rose said:
